First off 

Kari Rentschler Pederson won the peace sign diamond earings!! Congrats!!

Handsome

We have made it three months and are doing well.

The reality of adoption is that it is hard.  It is beautiful, a blessing, emotional, happy,

 …..and hard.

I love Handsome. 

 I love his smile, his laugh, his raspy voice, his little hand as it curls around mine every night before he falls asleep, the way he calls my name, the way he sings, the way he wrestles with his dad, his cute talking voice…I love him.

The past three months have been an experience.  I have been a student of adopting a toddler and have made it a semester.  The good new is that I feel like at three months we have reached a milestone.  Handsome seems like he feels settled.  He was always happy and felt welcome in our home but he would walk around as if searching or looking for someone or something.  He didn’t know quite where to play or relax or sleep or eat.  It reminds me of when a cat picks a place to lay down to sleep.  

They turn a few times in circles making sure they are comfortable.  

{This is what Handsome has been doing}

I feel like he is now comfortable and I love that.  He will sit and play with a toy for a while and doesn’t need to be held every second.

It has been challenging for the whole family had to learn and adjust to accommodate our new favorite boy.  Bug had to learn to share. Monkey had to learn that she might want to pick Handsome up to help but he may just freak out.  Sprite sees his temper and gets mad *which is her temper*. Noo Noo is convinced he is older than almost 2 and he knows better when he has major tantrums.  Mack has spent many hours taking him for a minute here and there so I could catch up on much needed sleep.  Rooz has picked up pieces when I can’t get to a kid to pick them up or run an errand for me.

Little Jon and I have added this piece of our lives to many other stressful situations we have been through together.  We have once again had to try really hard to communicate through the stress of planning a wedding, juggling all the businesses, plan Christmas, and parent ALL the kids well. 

 It has been hard.  

I find reflecting asking myself sometimes “Who am I? What are my strengths? I am enough to handle this load?”

When doubt creeps in, I feel weak.  

Satan wants us to feel inadequate…and sometimes it works.  I am a mom that stays at home.  I don’t get a bonus or a promotion.  I don’t get my name is flashing lights.  I don’t even get a sign on my office that says “boss”.  It often feels like nobody appreciates what I do.  I don’t expect them to but it is often annoying.  I didn’t until I was married with kids and tried to do what my mom did.  All of a sudden I had a lot more respect for the countless hours she drove us around, broke up fights, made food, and cleaned up the house although you could hardly tell she had because we were messing faster than she could clean and do everything else.  

Thank you Mom.

Now I understand.  I crack up when people say, “Oh you are just a stay at home mom?” 

“Yep, I am…Try it!” I think.  There is something *or a lot of things* pretty hard about that calling.  I won’t go into them all, I don’t have time, but if you haven’t done it you just don’t get it 

(like most things in life).  

Even my dear husband that claims to know he understands…..he doesn’t.  24 hours a day 7 days a week for 70 years {if you are lucky} to be ON.  

And when he says that going to California to network, eat dinner play golf, and meet new people is “Work”, I try not to laugh cause I ain’t playin’ no golf.

On with energy, ON with service, ON with advice, On with hugs, and On with help.  You can’t take a vacation, you can’t call in sick, and you can’t write hours on your time card and call it a day.  Kids watch you every minute of every day remembering how you dealt with each situation and learning from it.  They see the smiles, the frowns, the ups and downs….and then they go report to their class at school the most embarrassing thing you have done wrong.  Good news is that nobody is perfect and they will get a chance to do a better job than I did.  I tell them that all the time. 

{And I plan on laughing everytime they complain about their kids}

I remember once {after having my SECOND breast reduction} when I went to Sprite’s class to see her oral report.  I was sitting in the back of the class feeling so proud of the way she presented her information and her beautiful drawings to go with her subject.  

I was beaming…”She is my baby…” I thought  “Her eyes are so big and pretty and she has the cutest sense of humor…even at six  years old.”  

Next thing I know, the time was up.  The teacher said, “Now kids if you have anything to ask Sprite about her county report, you can raise your hand and ask her now.” 

 “One at a time please.”

Someone asked her about if she had visited her county and another asked what her favorite thing about her report was. And then I heard it….

“How long did it take you to write your report Sprite?”

I knew this wasn’t going anywhere good.  She had already rescheduled her report twice because of my lack of energy to help her.  I had been laying in bed and recovering from all the stitches and lack of sleep.  She had been patient *most of the time* and waited until I could come see her give her report.

“Um well….” She glanced back at me and started to laugh.

NO SPITE! NO NO NO NO NO

Please don’t tell these kids  that my boobs were too big and that they hurt my neck.  Please don’t tell them that I had bandages and stuff draining out of me.  PLEASE!!!! I begged her with my eyes.

Revenge is sweet I could almost hear her think…

I shook my head NO…

She looked at me with big eyes and a half grin.  She knew it was her chance to get me back for all the waiting she did and shook her head YES….very slow up and down.  

This was it.  

It was over.  

I was humiliated already.

What would these kids think?  They were sure to feel bad for Sprite no doubt having issues with their mothers for the same kind of thing.  Would they attack?  I was quite possibly ready to run.

I looked at Sprite again and mouthed the words…”NO!” I shook my finger at her at the same time for added effect and said, “NO!!!!!”

She took a big breathe and went on.  Her teacher had figured out by this point that something was up and was more interested in her answer than the little boy that had originally asked.

“WELL…… My mom has been really sick, laying in bed….and well she just didn’t help me much.  I did it all on my own.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.  

I looked like a looser parent for not helping enough, but at least my boobs weren’t the main point of the story *no pun intended*

*********************************************

What was my original point of this story? 

 I’m not sure other than mommy hood is hard.  Adopting is hard.  It is hard but worth it.  It is a change for everyone in the family so if you are contemplating it, think long and hard.  But most importantly, it is worth it….just like Motherhood.  Whether a child comes from your uterus or someone else…kids are hard.  They are beautiful, worth every minute of every thankless day, but hard.

But I wouldn’t have it any other way.